Little Jack is asleep. His whimpers had come to a gradual halt as we all made our way back into town. Bill drags Wesley into the jail, Nathan hobbles along side me in the direction of the infirmary. Bill is to ring the church bell when he is finished securing the prisoner. Nathan would have phoned headquarters right away, but no one is at the switchboard.
The darkness is almost suffocating, until muscles in Nate's weary hands quiver in attempt to light a lamp.
Our lanterns were lost in the mines, and we had to fumble our way out in the dark. I feel for the bed with my left arm with Jack in the other. Lights float across my vision in the dark, and my head feels as if I dipped it in ice water. I cling to Jack, unwilling to let him go. He could rest on the bed, but I cannot bear to let him from my sight. He sleeps so soundly anyway; he knows that he is safe.
"Nyrah?" It is now that I realize that Nate has lit a lamp in the corner, and I had been staring down a wall. "Jack is safe, I am safe, and...you are safe too."
"My answer is no."
"What are you talk-"
"I don't think we should be courting." The embers of concern in his eyes hiss and steam in the rain of my refusal. His expression turned into one of deep concern into deep agony. All in a silent and undetectable grimace. Nathan doesn't say anything, he merely offers to hold Jack, and although hesitant at first, I eventually cradle him in the Mountie's arms. When a few moments pass, he lays the boy down, and wraps a thin blanket over his shoulders. "Please...say something?" The command turns into a question. As cliche as it may appear, I never once wanted to hurt Nathan. I'm afraid that I should not have chucked the plan all that time ago. If Jude really is my half brother, then who knows when all of this will come to an end? I wish to rest and say that Jude is caught and everything can stay this wonderful forever. The ache in my chest tells me otherwise.
Nate entwines his fingers with mine, and traces the dry blood trail down my forearm with his thumb. It isn't a deep wound, but I watch as he checks just to make sure it isn't serious before Carson and Faith arrive. "Is your answer an indication that it can never happen?"
The response "I don't know"catches in my throat before I can voice it. So instead, I be honest with him and say, "I love you...I know you have already read it, but I need you to hear it too. I think I can safely guess that you and Bill heard what Jude Wesley told me. If what Jude said is true, and even if it is false, all of this isn't over. One day or even years could pass, but the end will be the same. He will tear me away from this world and my heart along with it...and yours."
Nathan sighs, exasperated. "Well, I guess we will have to choose our pain."
Puzzlement flashes over me. Is he referring to the pain of losing eachother versus the pain of holding back? "Ny," he continues, "I understand your decision and I respect it, but I won't accept that we love eachother for no reason."
I hold back a gulp, unsure of what he is implying. "I'll leave you alone, if that's what you want," he finishes. I nod, realizing it is for the best, even though I don't want him to leave me alone at all.
"I'm sorry, Nate." He takes a sharp inhale at the sound of the nickname I gave him. I squeeze his hand gently, ready to let go. "Do me a favor will you? Marry a beautiful woman someday who can be with you for a lifetime."
Aside from the confusing statement Nate made earlier, images from the dream I had of our wedding flash into my memory a second before the door caves in. The first is Elizabeth, her way paved by understanding townspeople. Clara and I share a glance; she is observant, as her eyes flick between the Mountie ane myself multiple times. All of Elizabeth's wailing and "Thank yous" blur together into one rancid stew in my brain. The bouquets. The music. The warm ember of joy. Did Jude give me those dreams or did my fears feed them? I leave everyone behind, refusing treatment again and ignoring Carson and his "doctor's orders." I need to be alone. Truly alone. Not filling the time up with busy tasks in my garden, which I do need to check on by the way, or people following after me to check on me. The night lights drift lazily into a void as my mind empties. The candle lit in my anger and emotions sputters until a trail of ghostly smoke curls up into my nostrils. It smells of coal dust and lilacs. One represents where my dreams came true, and the other is where my dreams came to an end. I'm surprised I have any dreams left at all. Maybe I don't anymore. Maybe that is why I wish to fall asleep in my bed and never wake up again in this moment.
I am not certain of how much more I can take. I accidentally killed my entire family at the age of four. A family which seemed so half-hearted toward my existence. I spent 14 agonizing years back and forth in the foster system. I was never adopted. I fought hard. I tried to get into a good college, but I couldn't keep my GPA high enough. I worked dozens of part time jobs at various times to stay afloat. I hardly had a decent apartment. It was overpriced and mold bloomed in each corner. That was soon before I met Sol. My life took a vibrant turn after that. She couldn't keep other peopl's secrets, and would always tell them to me. I never shared them again, but she would with her other friends like Hailey and Paige. Sol had a good job at a hair salon, and paid for our monthly Netflix subscription. I got fired at an ice cream parlor because they were downsizing staff and going out of business. I scrambled to look for another means of employment, but came up empty. That is, until I found a barista position at the Groggy Bean Lounge. I miss those simple days when I would boil up some Mac n' cheese or fry some sloppy sausages because that was what we had.
I miss the days before Sol discovered The Arrow and I chucked the tv remote at the TV when Jack died in When Calls the Heart. I miss them because they were simple. They were the most calm days of my life. Here in Hope Valley, even on my days off, I am surrounded by storm clouds of fear. I have Jude to blame for that.
I open the door to my home, ready to drop into the mattress, but then I discover there are still people living in my house. Fashion magazines are cuddling in the oddest of places. In the cracks of the sofa or or under my coffee table, they will have to go. I hate magazines. They clutter everything.
A few splotches of honey gleam over the surface of the dining table, and a large pile of dripping wet dishes are beside the sink. It looks like an attempt to clean them. An attempt. None of them will air dry at this point because they are all precariously stacked atop one another. I check in each of the two bedrooms, and I see Mrs. Black and her daughter fast asleep. They never joined in the search, and slept through it all.
With a sigh, I make my way downstairs again. The couch isn't inviting, but it is better than the floor. I carefully light a fire, and sit near the Hearth. I don't bother to wipe away the coal dust on my face and arms. I don't want to be an angry person, but a pang of hatred stabs at me for that man. If I have a chance, I will punch him right in the jaw and I hope his teeth chop off his tongue of lies.
The flower of orange and red in the fireplace transports me back to the red and blue lights of police cars and fire trucks. I had run in after them. I wanted to find mommy. And I did. I found her screaming and on fire. Daddy was under a pile of wood, unmoving. Peter and Lily yelled at me to fall down onto my hands and knees and get out. They were all trapped behind a door of thick smoke and flame. I stayed in an unscorched part of the floor screaming for my mommy until a fireman came and scooped me up. I don't remember much after that. My little world went black, and a glitch of stretchers and paramedics and ear-shredding sirens are now seared into my memory. I didn't have a single burn, but the smoke almost killed me I think.
The very idea that Jude kidnapped a child from his mother coils vomit up my throat, but I choke it down as best I can before I rush to the sink. All the sour contents of my stomach now in the basin, I pump some water into it to wash the nasty sludge away.
I need to sleep.
The crystal chandeliers above twinkled, casting warmth over Sol. This was the fifth date, and the gentleman had not arrived yet. Removing a compact mirror from her purse, Sol glanced over her apple-red lipstick once again before shutting it with a click. A stiff-collared waiter sauntered up to the table, offering a refill of wine. Sol could not help but wonder why her date would waste time and table-cloths all of a sudden. Wesley had always been dependable until now, and his absence lit some dynamite within her. Sol determined to give Jude five more minutes to extinguish the spark; she rejected the refill and sighed loudly when the waiter drifted away.
Sol had gone all out for this date; she wore a ravishing dress the solid hue of chili peppers. The design was simplistic, yet elegant. She probably stuffed her money down the garbage disposal, but she had not cared up until that moment. White plates gleamed in the candlelight, and a set of hands curled around the backrest of the chair across from Sol.
"The vanishing act is over I see." Sol commented with jest, a subtle smile teasing her lips.
"I apologize, miss Troy." Jude settled into the seat, brows furrowed and eyes distant.
"Is everything alright?"
The atmosphere was heavy as a railroad spike, and Jude swallowed in contemplation. Sol took note of the knot of his navy tie. It sat askew in the most clumsy of ways. "Do you remember when we first met?" He began.
"You mean when you poked me in the eye with your elbow? My entire eye socket hurt for three weeks. I'm surprised I didn't go blind."
He chuckled in remembrance. "Well, buses have limited moving space at times."
"Right. Your point?" Sol grins.
"I had found something out that day about my sister."
"You have a sister?"
"Those had been my thoughts exactly. I didn't know about her, and you have been a great comfort to me." He inhaled sharply. "But I see no reason to lie to you anymore."
Sol flicked her gaze from her empty plate to Jude in an instant. "What lies have you told?" The woman steeled over the wall she had reconstructed in her heart, on her guard as she had been before they met on that bus. Before Jude could relay his confession, the waiter returns, inquiring about the couple's order. Sol ordered a meal of Chicken Alfredo, and Wesley requested a salmon with extra lemon on the side and asparagus. Jude thanked the employee, and regained his train of thought.
"I have spent many lonely years living this life. It is difficult not to be selfish at times. You and your best friend were meant to be an expirament and a possible retirement plan. The idiocy of such a bathroom ritual was mere amusement on my part."
Sol drunk in his implication, her countenance shifting into a raw emotion of devastation. "It was you!" Sol banged her fist and disturbed a spoon and fork. Customers scattered throughout the restaurant stared at the madwoman and her silverware on the patterned carpet, which prompted Sol to retract her rage and sit back down. "What threat do you want to make, Wesley? Who are you working for?" Her tone slid into a serious whisper.
"You'll find me quite independent, Miss Troy. The only reason I told you anything was to ask you consider taking Nyrah's place. I thought her the most beautiful and intelligent to become the mother of my future child, but as a gentleman and her newly discovered brother, I cannot commit such an evil trespass."
Sol scoffed. "You can't? So you'll uproot people's lives and treat them like puppets, but you won't...Nyrah? Nyrah's your sister? I don't believe it!"
"Believe what you will. I am not normally a man of force, but I will inform you, Scarab, that I merely became the power to bring you here. Your own heart decided the rest, so you can tell the Green Arrow that I am not a threat to his ambition for justice."
"What are you on about?"
"I am a very patient man. I will see this plan through, and if you will not consider my proposal, I must find a way to make you see reason." Sol frowned at this creature's ability to control his intentions, collect his untraceable tone, and reply in such a believable way.
"Only an unreasonable and forceful man would say such a thing."
Jude sipped at the sweet wine in his glass, and sampled the flavor on his tongue. "You could have left a long time ago, yet you remain, which means that you know deep inside that I am utterly without deceit in this case."
"Don't worry. I'm leaving now. You can pay the bill." She had enough, and her heels pivoted to leave a trail of muted smoke behind her.
The man at the table sighed to cover up his exasperation. "Miss Troy, I'm hardly in the mood for your childish behavior. Sit. Down." His eyes darkened, lethal and dangerous. Sol sat back down. Bot because she felt like obeying him, but because a sliver of her inquisitive nature burst out from the rabbit hole, while her courage wavered. Suddenly, she pondered as to what Wesley was really capable of.
He continued at her compliance. "I went to see an old woman of many talents by the name of Alvina, and the talent I desired was knowledge. But before I get to that, I need to explain to you what I am."
Sol deadpanned, unimpressed by this villian's monolog. "Are you and alien?" Sol wouldn't be surprized; she had seen so many unusual things already in this world.
"No, but I am an author."
"Sorry, but I don't read books."
"That's a shame." The waiter ushered in the gleaming food spread out over a large tray. Once the the young boy left, Sol neglected her pasta. Jude dove right into his meal in such a casual manor, she found herself clenching her teeth. "Let me demonstrate." He removed a pocket-sized notebook from his suit jacket and slid out an ornate silver pen. The markings were some kind of language, but Sol did not recognize it.
"What are you doing?" Sol noticed a deep ache in her chest. It always happened whenever something bad was about to happen. Scanning ther perimeter, she did not notice any suspicious activity, so her gun wasn't warranted at the moment.
"How does this sound?" Jude clears his throat as he writes. "It was then in that moment, when in the center of the restaurant, Sol Troy pledged her eternal service to the man sitting across from her. Jude Viktor Wesley."
A subtle glow emanated from the pages, and Sol's breath became shallow as she found it difficult to need as much oxygen than she remembered. "What did you do?" She rasped, clearing her throat of the garbage he probably put there.
"I did exactly what is written here. If Nyrah cannot be persuaded to marry and give me her child, you will have to do. I need an heir."
The woman in bright red lipstick sneered. What is this precious heir he keeps talking about? "Look, sicko, I don't know what you are up to, but I won-" the words caught in her throat, lodged in place forever. Her entire head throbbed and pulsed from her trying to force the refusal out of her mouth. She gasped for air, but her determination was futile.
When she resigned, she resorted to simply asking questions for more clarification. The pressure in her esophagus relaxed. She didn't want to go though that kind of pain again. "Why do you need an heir?"
"Let's put it this way. If you can convince Nyrah to marry the Mountie and place her first born into her uncle's loving care...once the child is of age, you shall be released of your service to me."
"If you are so powerful with this pen of yours, why not just write her to do your bidding and leave me out of it?" Sol asked him.
Jude chortled. "What a boring suggestion...Alvina, whom I spoke of before, alerted me that there were two possible women to become the mother of the next author. I hope to retire in the next twenty years or so. I'm here to simply help things move forward. The role of author is normally passed on from father to son."
"Buy Nyrah is..."
"She shares the same father as I do. Her chances are less, but not impossible. It is for sentiment alone that I wish to convince her."
Sol gagged on her own air, "I don't think she will see it that way." She rubbed her face with her hands, stress written all over it.
He answered, "She must."
Bad News! This book is getting really close to its final chapters!!!! I am hoping to make it last longer. I will try my best, but thank you for staying with me through this journey.